


Beginning After The End

by Fericita



Series: When All Is Lost [47]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, we want Thea to have good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: It had been a little over a year ago that all these same people had been in a chapel for Elias’s service.The Spastic Fantastic was a huge influence on this, brainstorming, sharing ideas, editing, and wanting to see Thea get a happy ending as much as I did.  Thank her for this story if you like it! I'm glad she created Hubert back in The Color of Virtue and let me use him some more.
Relationships: Agnarr & Iduna (Disney), Agnarr/Iduna (Disney), Elias Calder & Thea Jorgen
Series: When All Is Lost [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571230
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

The stones rose up out of the ground and Princess Anna looked impossibly small against them, her hands clasped tightly and her head bowed in muted sorrow and reverence. Thea wished she had been as composed during the service for Elias a year ago instead of sobbing throughout, Sasha and Vadik clinging to her in a way she didn’t know a seventeen-year-old and a nine-year-old could cling.

Perhaps that was why Queen Elsa hadn’t come. Perhaps she too had been unable to stop her outward displays of grief and mourning that would have been too devastating for Arendelle’s citizens to witness from their teenaged monarch. Or perhaps it was now deemed too dangerous for the remaining members of the royal family to be in the same place. There had been a few assassination attempts over the years and rumors of ill health were always rampant. Especially this past winter which had taken so many in a sweating sickness including the elder Calders. Elias’ parents had both gasped his name as they died. 

Too many gone. 

Thea watched as the priest put a hand on Anna’s shoulder and said “Have courage.” Anna nodded, eyes downcast and Thea wished she had the energy to go tell her to have whatever she wanted: anger, fear, sadness, nothing. But when she took Anna’s hand in the receiving line, she knew it was something else she needed to say and she tried to hug Anna the way Iduna always had, both arms tight around her waist and head tucked against Anna’s.

“They loved you very much,” Thea whispered, only loud enough for Anna to hear, and then tightened the hug when she felt Anna’s breath hitch at her words. Thea made soothing sounds against Anna’s ear like she did for little Elias, like she did sometimes even for her older children who wouldn’t ask for it, but whose bodies relaxed at the noise when she tucked them back under covers after troublesome dreams. “They were very proud of you, and I am too.” 

***

Thea dried her eyes with a handkerchief and linked her arm through Sasha’s as they left the service. 

“It was longer than Father’s service. But not so long as Grandmother’s and Grandfather’s,” Vadik said as he reached for Thea’s free hand. Her heart seized at the thought that her ten-year-old son had been to enough funeral services in the past year to compare them.

“The music was beautiful. King Agnarr would have loved the violins,” Sasha said, sparing Thea the need to respond. “I bet the baby would have liked listening to the choir.”

Vadik giggled. “He would have tried to sing though. And clap.”

“If he did, Queen Iduna would have liked that better than any instrument,” Thea said and smiled in spite of the sadness. Little Elias did that for her, for them all. Delighting in his arrival and his first smile, first words, first steps; he pulled them all out of the pit of grief they so often found themselves in. 

“Still, it’s best he’s home with the nursemaid. Cook has probably already fed him lunch. Should we -” Thea stopped and watched in confusion as Sasha dropped her arm and pulled away, walking with urgency towards a man still facing the stone pillars.

“Uncle Hubert! Uncle Hubert!”

Sasha pulled on his elbow and the man turned to her, smiling while wiping at his eyes and at his neatly trimmed beard and Thea saw that it was indeed Hubert. Hubert, who had grown to be such a close friend that even after Elias’s death they had continued to exchange letters. 

There was more white in his beard than the last time they had seen him, and perhaps less of it on his head, but he still had the same tall, trim build of his youth. Thea’s eyes were trained on his beard, wondering if Elias would have also been starting to have streaks of white appearing in his hair had he lived to bury his best friend instead of preceding him in death. Thea swallowed painfully, a feeling like panic and longing fighting in her chest. 

Hubert hugged Sasha and then shook hands with Vadik, exclaiming over how much the children had grown since he had last been to Arendelle.

“If you think we’re big, you should come see little Elias! He’s the chubbiest baby you’ll ever see and Mother says he’ll be bigger than me soon!” Vadik said and then looked at Thea.

Sasha had linked arms with her mother again as Thea took a deep breath past her mounting emotions and smiled at Hubert. “It’s good to see you, Hubert.”

“It’s good to see you, Thea.” His smile was a pained one that surely mirrored her own.

***

“How long did you know him? The king?” Thea asked. They had switched to French, a more comfortable language for Hubert and one Thea was eager to speak in. Speaking it reminded her of days in a Parisian finishing school when she had less responsibility and more time to pursue her artistic accomplishments, and though she had taught the children, they were never as eager to leave the ease of their native tongue.

Vadik and baby Elias had gone to bed, Hubert helping out with stories of trains and lullabies. Sasha had given him another hug before bidding them both good night and retiring to her room. Thea half expected to come downstairs and see Elias and Iduna and Agnarr in the sitting room, to take up the evening amusements as they once had while vacationing together in the Royal Sommerhus so many years ago. 

But of course, it was empty.

The servants had left some spirits on a tray by the fire for her and Hubert and she poured him a glass of akvavit before pouring some for herself. She settled in a chair by the fire and he did the same.

“I knew King Agnarr for over two decades. I met him when I was twenty, assisting with a trade negotiation. He was a few years younger, but already so serious and earnest in doing the best for his kingdom.” He swirled the liquid in his cup and sighed. “When did you first meet? Was it Iduna you knew first?”

Thea took a sip of her drink and smiled. This dance of grief - fond memories that were no less happy for being remembered when sad - was something she had learned in the past year. For a while she had tried to avoid even thinking of the happy moments, afraid she would tinge them with an irreparable sadness now that Elias was gone. But the children wanted to be told the same stories about their father again and again, and even her mother-in-law and father-in-law could only be soothed by memories when in their sick bed. 

It was a fresh wound, a bright one, still stinging, to think of Agnarr and Iduna. To add them to the trove of treasured memories that were now of a limited quantity. 

“I had the opposite impression when I first saw him. It must have been around that many years ago.”

“Oh?” Hubert looked surprised, but intrigued, and settled back into his chair in anticipation of her explanation.

“The day I arrived in Arendelle from finishing school was the day he and Iduna crashed into the fjord on that ridiculous velocipede. I thought my parents had made quite a poor decision in starting a business here, even though my father had claimed it was ripe for a print shop with the new King’s Academy growing the demand for books and printed materials.” 

Hubert was smiling and it was enough encouragement for her to continue. He clearly liked remembering them too. 

“I saw the commotion and thought it was just some school children having fun until the sailors and the fisherman started addressing this boy as king. And then he refused to get out of the water until Iduna was safely lifted out and someone had fetched her a blanket. I thought it scandalous that a young king would put a lady in a situation like that, at worst in danger of drowning, at best in danger of catching cold. And then to learn she was a commoner and they weren’t even courting...it was Elias who explained it to me later, what he was really like. But, no, it was not a good first impression.” 

Hubert laughed now. “This was before their courtship then. I remember Agnarr being inept in that area of kingship.” He leaned forward, placing his drink back on the tray and putting his elbows on his knees. “Did you know I asked him about Iduna after his eighteenth birthday ball? I had a dance with her and was enchanted. And he and I got along well so I knew he could tell me if she already had a young man courting her. But he didn’t tell me of his feelings for her! Instead, he told me where I could find her at work! She let me down kindly.”

Thea put a hand to her chest and laughed. “I never heard that story!”

Hubert nodded with a small grin. “It’s true. The next time I came to Arendelle they were courting and Agnarr apologized for not speaking of his intentions to me earlier. I told him it was no matter, as long as he had apologized to her for not speaking of his intentions earlier!” Hubert leaned back again and sighed. “So wise in some ways, and then so like a child in others. I’m glad he got to have his own family before...this. Before his end.”

Thea took a drink and nodded. “They loved each other so. It’s a good legacy they leave, though too soon to do it.”

Hubert looked at her steadily, and she wasn’t sure what to read there. He reached for his glass again and clinked it to hers. “Elias as well.”

***

Thea showed Hubert to a guest room, insisting he stay with them instead of on his ship docked in the harbor. The inns were full of foreign dignitaries paying homage to the king and queen and the idea of sleeping on a boat after talking about three loved ones who died on one felt like too heavy of a thing to bear.

She walked through the narrow hallways of the house, checking on each child. Vadik had thrown the covers off so she tucked him in and kissed his head, glad he couldn’t roll his eyes at this sign of affection while asleep. Sasha had fallen asleep with a book on her chest and Thea smiled as she tucked a ribbon into the pages as a bookmark and set it on her bedside table. In the nursery, little Elias was sleeping on his stomach. He looked even rounder in sleep. She pressed a hand on his back and breathed with him, the calm of his steady breaths finally making her feel sleepy. 

In her room, she undressed by herself. Her lady’s maid had gone to bed hours before once Thea had assured her she could manage. The woman had been yawning before Thea and Hubert tired of reminiscing, the comfort of shared stories and dear friends a balm on this difficult day. She closed her eyes as she stepped out of the mourning gown, longing for the feel of Elias’s hands slipping underneath her chemise and kissing her throat as he unbuttoned and unlaced. With her eyes closed and her head a little fuzzy and warm from the akvavit, she could almost feel his breath on her neck and his hands at her waist, warm and eager on her skin.

She discarded the dress and hoped it would be a long time before she needed it again. As she pulled her own covers tight against her body, she began her regular nighttime ritual. Reaching for the memories she wanted to play across her mind until she surrendered to sleep, she thought about how Elias had explained the king’s behavior to her. It had been at the same ball Hubert spoke of, held in honor of Agnarr’s eighteenth birthday. 

By then, Arendelle had weathered an outbreak of Rock Pox and fared far better than its neighbors. Thea had been impressed by the quick response of the crown to procure medicines and supplies for everyone in need, to compensate affected businesses, and to recognize Iduna with a medal and a council seat for her contributions to the quick containment of the illness.

She tucked her hands under her cheek and thought of the dress she wore the night of the ball. It was a brilliant green, the finest silk she had ever worn and one her parents were proud to be able to afford with their earnings from the print shop, now successful and producing more content than they had hoped. A footman had presented her and all of the other ladies from Arendelle with golden pins in the shape of wheat and she had held it in her gloved hand. Foreign princesses had already affixed crocus pins to their dresses, the more daring ones placing them very close to generous displays of decolletage. 

It was the second time she had seen Elias. 

The first time was that day at the dock, when the king and Iduna were treading water in the fjord. Thea had gaped at them from the deck of the French ship delivering her to her new home. What was this place? Where people watched as a king almost killed himself and a young lady? In the chaos, Thea remembered seeing a tall, dark-skinned young man and a shorter, light-skinned and more compact young man clapping each other on the back as they pointed to the king amidst fits of laughter. The taller one caught her eye, winked, and smiled. It had been a handsome smile. Wide and easy. She had turned her head, blushing. 

And then she saw him again at the ball.

He bowed to her and asked her to dance and she shoved the pin into her reticule so she could take his hand. 

When the music started, he steered them effortlessly and she followed him, grateful that he was a better partner than the clumsy boy she’d been assigned in finishing school. 

“You’re that girl. I saw you the day the king fell in the water. I wondered if you had sailed right back out of Arendelle after that.”

She was a little breathless from the dancing, even though they had just begun. “I was arriving that day, sir, not departing. My family set up our print shop in Market Square. I’ve been busy helping them arrange business.”

“Oh, the Jorgens! Yes I believe my father knows yours. He’s the trade minister. Always needing duplicates made of various agreements. I’m Elias Calder. Welcome to Arendelle.”

She smiled and didn’t speak, concentrating on the steps, on the muscles she could feel coiled beneath her hand, on his smile, so winsome and open.

“You’re not like the other girls.” He said, suddenly.

She hmmphed and turned her head so she looked over his shoulder as they continued the steps of the dance. 

“Is that rude? I’m sorry. I meant to pay a compliment.” His eyes were amused even though his apology sounded sincere and it elicited a flare of irritation in her chest.

“Either you meant to insult my sex generally or me personally. I'm not sure which is worse but either way it makes you a rude clout.”

“I’m sorry.” The amusement in his eyes had vanished, replaced with genuine worry. “I just meant - every other woman here is falling over themselves to get on Agnarr’s dance card, to show their appreciation for his gift, to wish him a happy birthday. But you’re not.”

She gave a small smile. It was an acknowledgement that he had been watching her and she recognized it for the compliment it was.

“I don’t want the pin to ruin my dress. And,” she leaned in closer to his ear and whispered. “I’m not sure the king is worth all that trouble.” She had meant to avoid her voice carrying, but the closeness brought a thrill that had nothing to do with fear of being overheard.

Elias looked puzzled as she pulled away from his ear and they continued the movements of the dance. “No?”

She shook her head, pleased her curls might be shown to good effect. She hoped he was watching. He was very handsome. And light on his feet. And if he winked at her again she might not turn away. 

“He seems a very inconsiderate man to drag a woman on an adventure that ends with her in wet clothes in public. Does he not have high regard for his citizens? Does he think women not born of royalty don’t merit the same kind of attention and consideration as those you’d find in court? Or is he ignorant?”

Elias smiled at her. “I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned towards her ear, whispering, and she could feel every one of the fine hairs on her neck as he did. “Agnarr is madly in love with her and we all have a bet going of when he'll finally realize it, summon his courage and ask her permission to court her."

"He wouldn't ask her father?" Thea had asked, hoping he would remember this hint for how to court a woman.

"Oh, um, Iddy - Iduna is an orphan too. We think it's part of why they get on so well. Mutual understanding of unspoken things and all that." 

Thea nodded, considering this new information. 

“When she moved to Arendelle from the orphanage, he welcomed her to town with a golden mortar and pestle.”

“Gold?” Thea laughed at the absurdity. “For a mortar and pestle?”

“So you’re right that he is ignorant in certain matters. But I think he genuinely loves her. He’s certainly devoted. There’s nothing untoward in his attentions.”

The dance ended and Thea watched as Agnarr walked back into the ballroom from the balcony, Iduna a few paces behind and clutching at a necklace. 

Elias walked her over to the refreshments and ladled a cup of punch before bowing to her again. “I promised my sister a dance. But I hope to find you again soon, Miss. Jorgen. And perhaps you’ll let me learn your first name, as well as the proper way to court a lady in the French fashion.” 

He winked and was off through the crowd and two decades on, Thea clutched at her pillow and hoped sleep would come before the tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha chatted on the walk to the stones, telling Hubert about her aspirations of studying music at a conservatory somewhere in Europe and Thea could already feel a headache taking residence at the spot where her backbone met her neck. Sasha was a talented violinist, and she loved that her daughter wanted to study music, but the idea of anyone else sailing away from her was like getting kicked in the stomach. 

“My grandparents in Denmark said I’m welcome there anytime and they would arrange for private tutors. And Aunt Linnea in London has said the same. Perhaps mother will let me go this year.”

Hubert looked over Sasha’s head at Thea and raised his eyebrow in question. Thea shook her head and felt the panic rise in her chest at the thought of her daughter leaving on a ship.

“I hope you’ll play for me while I’m here. Letters can’t convey the beauty of music, though your mother and your father both tried when writing of your talent,” Hubert said. Thea was grateful for this change in topic even as the panic continued to vibrate through her.

Is that why Agnarr and Iduna were always so different? Why they closed the gates and kept their daughters hidden? They knew the cost life demanded. The scars it left on the living.

They stopped walking when they reached the stones, dark and bleak against the sky in the bright sun of the morning. Thea saw Maddie and Ingrid holding hands at the stone bearing Iduna’s name and Henrik, Sigrid, Greet, and Oaken standing by Agnarr’s in a tight circle. Everyone with their partner, looking at death and huddling together, warding it away from their own homes. Thea hugged her arms around herself as she neared them, feeling the loss of Elias’s guiding hand on her waist keenly.

The men shook hands and the ladies hugged and then they all stood silently for a while, staring at the stones. No one seemed to know what to do or what to say, and Thea thought Agnarr or Elias would have known how to say the right words, to lead the right ceremony, to soothe and comfort and offer hope.

After a while, Henrik cleared his throat. “Hudson’s? My treat.”

The group walked slowly back down toward the town proper and there was no chatter this time. They made a somber procession. The Market Square was still draped in black banners and the flag of Arendelle lay limply on the pole at half mast. Thea felt a satisfaction in that, the entire kingdom mourning like she had been mourning since the king and queen came to her home in the fall of the previous year. Both had looked so stricken that Thea knew what they would say even before they sat down with her in her own sitting room to tell her about the wreck of a ship that had been found, the pieces splintered and shattered among a skerry far to the north.

Iduna had hugged her and Agnarr had stuttered on words of promise about giving Elias the honor he deserved and setting up their children with a life-long pension. Thea had only said “But he always comes back,” and hadn’t cried until they’d left, her hands on her middle where a new baby was growing.

Halima greeted them and brought drinks around even though it was still mid-morning. She put a hand on Henrik’s shoulder as she set a pitcher in front of him and he put his hand to hers and squeezed. 

“Thank you, Halima. Join us?”

Halima shook her head. “No, they’re best remembered by their closest friends. Let me know if you need anything.” She walked to the front door and bolted it from the inside, then excused herself to the back rooms. 

Thea watched as she walked away, a sadness to the slump of her shoulders that had been there for many years. Once, Halima had spoken to her of a young man who had been lost in the Northern Expedition, who she hoped had somehow been able to survive within the thick mist that shut out the Northern lands. Looking at her, Thea wondered if that was a worse fate than knowing your loved one was dead - to have a small flame of hope burning up any ability to move on or find new love. She reached for Sasha’s hand and held it tightly. 

Henrik sighed. “Agnarr has the place cleared out for us one last time.”

Thea watched as Maddie brushed tears from her eyes and Ingrid put an arm around her.

“To King Agnarr and Queen Iduna,” Henrik said, raising his glass and standing up. The others got to their feet and raised theirs as well. 

Their voices joined together in a “Skal” that was probably the least celebratory Thea had ever heard, but it seemed to cheer Henrik a bit.

“Do you remember my last night here before going to Oxford? When we had to rearrange the seating and keep refilling Agnarr’s glass in the hope that he would finally tell Iduna he loved her?” Henrik took a sip of his drink and then wrapped his hands around it, squeezing tightly. Sigrid leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder. 

“I was not here for that, but I can see why it would have been necessary,” Hubert said, a fond smile coming to his lips.

“Oh, it was very necessary,” said Greet. “That man loved her so much, but could not figure out how to do anything about it!” 

“That’s not entirely fair. All those elaborate gifts? He tried. Iduna didn’t or couldn’t understand,” said Maddie, and then whispered something in Ingrid’s ear that Thea didn’t hear. 

“That was the first night I met some of you,” Thea said as she put her glass on the table. “I remember seeing the king run his hand along Iduna’s back and hoping that he wasn’t ruining her reputation forever.”

Greet laughed. “I tried to get her to do far more to him that would ruin her reputation.”

Thea shot a glance at Sasha, who looked slightly embarrassed to be hearing this about the king and queen. She put her hand back in Sasha’s as she spoke. “I didn’t understand Arendelle then. Or how they were together. But later I did. When we’d paint together and talk, or watch Elias and the king together doing their wrestling or swimming.”

Thea had surprised herself by saying Elias’s name out loud and hated that the conversation, which had just been turning to happier memories, was newly awash in grief at the mention of her husband.

“Where are your children, Henrik?” Greet asked, after the silence had stretched out unbearably long.

“Home in London. The boys are nearly old enough to oversee the business now,” he answered. “A little younger than you, Sasha.”

Oaken took an impossibly long drink from his glass and then wiped his hand across his mouth. “The business, it is good, ja?”

Henrik shrugged, but Sigrid nodded and added “Yes, very. Ice exports are very much in demand.”

“Interesting,” said Hubert. “We should discuss it sometime. I’m transitioning away from ambassador duties to the more sedentary life of growing the national rail system. Which includes as a priority ice cars for transporting perishable goods.”

Henrik tipped his glass towards Hubert. “Certainly. Perhaps another weekend in Paris?”

Hubert visibly paled and coughed before reaching for his glass. 

“No? Are you settled down then? Abandoning world travel for the delights and comforts of home?” Sigrid elbowed Henrik and Thea thought this was the best tribute to Agnarr and Iduna, for friends to be sharing stories and talking, instead of standing silently, paralyzed with grief. 

“No, I’m not so lucky as you. My sister Sara keeps hoping I’ll put an end to my days of being a bachelor. And I should tell you, I had to avoid the attentions of a woman whom I think you are all very familiar with. Unpleasantly so.”

“Who?” Greet asked, leaning forward. “A woman from Arendelle?”

“No, but one who made quite the impression on Arendelle during a certain birthday ball and garden party.”

“Lady Alexsandra?” Greet asked, and it was nearly a shriek.

“Worse,” said Hubert. “She tried to arrange a match between myself and her daughter, newly eighteen.”

Sasha pulled away from Thea at that, straightening up. “Ugh! Eighteen! You’re past forty!”

“That's what I said, though far more diplomatically,” laughed Hubert. “I can assure you neither Alexsandra nor her daughter are any more pleasant about being told ‘no’ than you would expect.”

“Did that work? Being nice?” Henrik asked, laughing.

“No. It was more satisfying to be rude anyway,” Hubert said, laughing along with Henrik.

“And did that work?” Sasha asked, eyes wide in horror at this story of a girl her own age being offered in marriage to a man her father’s age.

‘No,” Hubert said, still laughing. “So I suddenly stopped being able to speak German. Then French. Then English. They only stopped their pursuit when stymied by my Flemish.”

“She was the worst, I can well believe she’d try to arrange a match with little input from the groom,” said Greet. “Thank goodness Iduna was our queen instead of her.”

“Quite the legacy she left, where we all shudder at her name,” said Hubert. “And you have her to thank that no one knows your full name, Sasha.”

Sasha sat up straight in her chair, aghast. “What?”

“We named you Aleksandra for my grandmother, but she was called Sasha. And Elias and I vowed we’d never tell the king and queen your real name.” Thea said, raising her eyebrow at Hubert who shook his head and shrugged.

“But - but they’re my godparents!” Sasha spluttered, unbelieving. “How did they not know my name?”

The rest of the friends laughed and Thea squeezed Sasha’s hand while Hubert looked at them both with an apologetic smile.

***

“Their twins are about Vadik's age. They moved out of the town when they were born and further up in the mountains,” Thea explained later when Hubert asked about Maddie and Ingrid’s family. Maddie had been even more reserved that usual and hardly spoken at all in the time the friends spent together. 

“Two at once? What a blessing.”

But Thea cringed, his words calling to her mind the double tragedy they had been observing that day. Two gone at once, beneath the waves, to be splintered and crushed in all the ways she had imagined Elias had spent his last moments. Maybe two at once was a blessing.

But mostly it was nice having Hubert there, and so little had been nice lately. When she hadn’t been tending to her own grief, wild and unruly like the cloudberries on a skerry, she had to tend to her children’s needs and to the elder Mr. and Mrs. Calder’s before their deaths. Two at once. A blessing.

Hubert led her and the children on walks to the waterfall and to the top of the clock tower. He asked to be shown the aquaculture projects he had been instrumental in setting up a decade ago, and then withdrew his request without protest when Thea said “We won’t be sailing.” 

And then, a month into his stay with them, when she was starting to wonder if this was a permanent arrangement and realizing she didn’t mind if it was, Hubert proposed.

***

Hubert arranged everything. He suggested they get married in Antwerp so Sara could be present and assured Thea that the ship would deliver them all safely. As Thea packed trunks and asked servants if they preferred to travel with them or stay behind to keep the family home in good order, she tried to avoid thinking of being on a ship. But it came unbidden: the water roiling below and the winds whipping the sails, cracks of wood splitting apart and masts torn in two.

The night before they left, she lay in her bed, sleepless and thinking of the first time Elias had taken her sailing. They were officially courting by then and she no longer tried to disguise her appreciative looks at his form as he manned the sails on their small craft. When the wind blew sprays of water onto them, he had shaken his head and whooped. “Is there any better feeling than this?” He had shouted, and even though he was so close she could reach out and touch him, his voice barely carried over the wind. 

When they tied up the boat and walked along a skerry, she ran her hands under his loose shirt and he took it off in a swift motion. “Better for sailing anyway,” he said, and winked at her. He dipped his head low to kiss her and his lips tasted salty with the sea. 

Her hands trembled to touch the bare skin of his back and at her light touch, he gasped. “I was wrong, this is the best feeling,” he said and Thea agreed, telling him so with her hands splayed out and pressed more firmly into his back and then daringly dipping further down to feel the curve of him rather than only the hard planes of his back.

***

She woke without realizing she had slept, and already felt sick with nerves at the thought of her whole family on a ship together. Sasha boarded first, running up the gangplank with Vadik close behind. They had missed this, she knew. They loved sailing with their father and had been excited at this change they were making as a family. Thea held little Elias but Hubert took him from her so she could walk unencumbered across the gangplank, and then the nursemaid took the baby from him. Thea gripped the railing and stared at their home on the waterfront until it was a speck in the distance.

What was hard during the day was unbearable at night. Sasha and Vadik loved sleeping in the hammocks on board, and though Hubert had given her the largest quarters, all Thea could do was pace and pace. The baby had never slept so soundly, lulled by the rocking, and she knew she didn’t need to be holding him for his sake. But she clung to him, reminding herself why she couldn’t fly apart into a thousand pieces, like Elias’s ship had, flung across miles of shoreline and skerries. 

A light rap on the door drew her out of her macabre thoughts and she crossed the room to open it. Hubert was there, holding some wine. 

“I thought you might like a drink?” He drew out another bottle, this one small. It looked medicinal, though Thea couldn’t read the label. “Or perhaps something stronger? This would let you sleep. I can be sure the children are cared for.”

Thea allowed him to take the baby to the nursemaid and by the time he returned she was sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, clutching herself tightly and rocking in motion with the ship. He sat down next to her, leaving space between them. 

“I know this is hard. I wish there was another way to get where we’re going.” He placed both bottles on their sides on the bed and she wished he would just make her drink something. Deciding was too much right now. 

“I think I might go mad. All I can think about is all of us sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”

“And you don’t want that?”

Thea looked up sharply, surprised. “Of course not.”

Hubert shrugged. “Sometimes people want to die after their loved one does. I know Sara had that despair for some time. She was widowed after only two years of marriage to her love.”

“No,” Thea said. “I want to live,” and she was somewhat surprised to find it true. 

The ship pitched forward suddenly and she began to tumble off of the bed, but Hubert’s arms caught her around the waist and then pulled her back onto the bed, against himself. 

“Easy, easy,” he muttered, in the same way Thea might have calmed a horse or a colicky baby. He took one hand off of her to reach for the smaller bottle. 

“Drink this. I’ll stay with you and make sure all is well. The nursemaid has the children.”

Thea opened her mouth as he poured the contents of the bottle in her mouth and she swallowed, tears coming to her eyes as another swell pitched the ship forward and the sound of creaking boards brought goosebumps to her flesh.

“It’s too hard, it’s too hard,” she muttered and Hubert held her tightly, telling her of his parents and how they had sailed from Prussia to Antwerp following a fast courtship and then lived happily for years in the home they were sailing to now. She fell asleep with his mouth inches from her ear, his arms around her waist.

***

Thea woke and saw Elias sitting across from her, in the chair she knew was left behind in their family home in Arendelle. He was smoking a pipe but the air smelled like saltwater. The smoke from his pipe was turning into crocuses that lost their petals as they slammed to the floor and shattered.

She tried to sit up but her head weighed too much and she could do no more than roll to her side. Elias took the pipe out of his mouth and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I know you miss me, but you can’t come here.” 

He stood up and walked towards her, each step sounding like cannon fire. He put his hand on her cheek but she couldn’t feel it and she moaned and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Elias was standing in front of her, frantic. 

“You shouldn’t be here! It’s too dangerous!” Rain was pelting him and his coat was torn at the shoulder. “The ship is falling apart!” 

Again, she tried to sit up but this time her legs wouldn’t move and when she looked down at them and then back up, Elias was gone. 

“Elias? Where did you go?”

Hubert answered. “He had to go, but I’m here. I’m here.”

Thea closed her eyes again. “Will he come back if I close my eyes?”

She felt Hubert’s hand on her cheek and it made her cry. If Elias had been real, she would have felt him. Wouldn’t she?

“He can’t come back. But he loved you very much, and he loves you still.”

***

A letter wouldn't have arrived faster than their passage, so when the family arrived in Antwerp, Hubert’s sister Sara met them at the pier, surprised and happy.

“Hubert, are those your children?” she asked, incredulous.

“They will be,” he answered, and Thea knew she had done the right thing. 

***

She had felt shattered at Elias’s death and, now in a home that didn’t overpower her with memories, she was aligning the fragments of those memories so they didn’t pierce her in a way that cut off her breath. She hoped she would figure out how to fully come back to herself before Hubert tired of this half-life woman he had married, before the children tired of her melancholy and moods. Before she lost herself totally and led a life that was worse than death. But she wanted to live. She just had to figure out how.


	3. Chapter 3

Elias sent flowers to the print shop every day after their dance at the ball. Thea’s parents were pleased, then amused, and then annoyed as every surface of their small store was covered and the fragrance made everyone who entered sneeze.

“Please tell this young man he may court you before people start thinking we’re florists,” her father said, looking up from his work with inky hands and a pleased smile.

***

“I hope you’ll stay,” Elias had said when she told him her parents approved the courtship but only planned to stay in Arendelle long enough to make the print shop profitable before they sold it and sailed back to their family land in Denmark. 

“I hope you’ll give me a reason,” said Thea before turning and walking further into Hudson’s, waving to Maddie and joining her at a table.

***

“If you’re leaving, don’t return here,” Thea told Hubert when he said he’d come back and visit. “I can't bear it, waiting on a ship to come in.”

Hubert looked at her, steadily, and she didn’t see any anger or hurt in his eyes. Perhaps he understood.

“Then come with me.”

She began to cry.

***

“I love you,” Elias said, and it was like a groan, like a confession causing him pain. His hips were flush against hers and she could feel the hardness there, could feel as well as hear his words as he half-whispered them into her ear. “I know we can’t get married right away but can we soon? May I talk to your father?”

She answered with a kiss, which was perhaps not what Manners Mistress had taught about courtship, but Thea didn’t see how she could respond any other way. If she could melt her body into his, she would, and not mind one bit if she lost herself in the process.

***

“I know you don’t love me, I know it's not love right now. You’re still grieving. We’re both mourning.” Hubert looked so earnest, so plaintive, and his kindness brought more tears to her eyes so that she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She covered her face and wiped at it with clumsy hands and then Hubert closed the distance between them and hugged her to his chest.

“Can’t we mourn together? Make a new family?” Her ear was pressed against his chest and she could feel the rumble as he spoke. She took a few deep breaths and his hands dropped from her shoulders at this sign of composure. She drew back from him, but there were only inches between their faces and the space felt charged with a passion made from despair.

“Oh Hubert. If you want a family, find a young woman with child-bearing years ahead of her. I’m sure mine are over.”

He shook his head. “I know they aren’t mine, but I could love Sasha and Vadik and Elias like they were. Sasha could study music in Antwerp. The Ecole speciale de musique is world-renowned! And you know Vadik would love to have an adventure in a new place. Little Elias would get along fine, and you can bring as many of your own staff as you’d like. I won’t replace Elias. I won’t. But let me build a legacy. Let us help each other.”

Thea shook her head and kept her eyes on the floor, on a spot just in front of him. “What you’re longing for, I don’t think I can give you that. I think I don’t have any of it left.” 

“I meet plenty of young women and they make me feel like a lecher. I could be their father in age and none will speak to me as easily about aquaculture and art. None could converse with dignitaries or business associates and help secure deals by virtue of her hosting.”

Thea gave a small laugh. 

Hubert smiled. “We have a long friendship. Is that not a basis for a good marriage?”

She began crying again but she put a hand up to keep him away. “Would you give me someone new to mourn?”

***

The first time they made love it was rushed and awkward and wonderful, desperation and longing finally fulfilled as Elias gently tugged at layers of clothing and pressed himself to her. She sought the skin that had been hidden underneath his shirt and trousers and ran her hands along the hard muscle there, wondering if she would always feel this way, so urgent in her need of him. She hadn’t wanted to wait until the wedding and he had let out a sigh of relief when she told him, better than any marriage vow could be in her ears. Then, after the wedding, their nights together still felt like stolen time as his frequent expeditions made each leaving and each homecoming equally urgent and passionate. Had she known even then their time would be too short?

***

The first time with Hubert was slow and unhurried. Like they had all the time in the world, and she supposed they did. 

Too much time. 

Hubert said he had been feeling the crush of time now that three dear friends were dead, that it would run out before he was ready. But she felt cursed with it. 

All this time to survive. 

The elder Calders and the royal couple had died with their beloveds and she somehow had to make a life without hers. 

This would help her forget. 

It would feel good. 

She lost herself in his gentle and generous caress, his whispered words and his hands rolling down her stockings and pulling her body to his. These were not frantic fumblings in the dark corners of a house between teenagers, ears alert to the movement of parents in upstairs rooms. He took the dressing robe from her shoulders and she stretched her hands across the broadness of his chest, losing herself in the pleasure of his body against hers and the rhythm and heat they made together. It was a feeling of fullness, of pleasure, and it had been so long.

After, he pulled her trembling body against his and she cried, saying “I forgot, I forgot.” 

But even she didn’t know what she meant. Did she forget what pleasure was like? Did she forget Elias? And was that a relief or tragedy? Hubert didn't ask and she was relieved he didn't. Instead his hands stroked her hair and pulled the coverlet over them as he murmured to her in a language she didn't know. 

In the morning when they awoke to the sound of Sasha practicing her violin and Vadik running down the steps and calling for Sara, Hubert pulled her tightly to himself again and offered new vows.

“I promise to help you forget when you want to forget and to help you remember when you want to remember.”

But she didn’t know which she wanted just then, so she tried to make light of it. “Just promise me you won’t get on a boat.”

He lifted himself off of the bed and then lowered his head to kiss her firmly on the lips, more as a sign of agreement than a sign of passion but Thea felt the stirrings of desire at the sincerity and kindness in his words: “I promise.”

***

When Elias died, she was pregnant with their third child and it kept her alive, this remnant of her husband. She watched her body swell and grow in familiar ways and when the baby boy was born she saw his face and spoke the name of who she missed, who this baby looked like, who she wished could see what he had made and left behind. “Elias,” she whispered, as the baby grasped her finger with his fist. 

“What a lovely name, dear,” said the midwife. “It suits him.”

***

Hubert was the first to guess, even before Thea herself. His hands were on her breast and around her middle as they lay together in bed, the quiet of the house like a blanket of calm around them.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t had a cycle since little Elias was born, and that’s been over a year now.” She spread her hands over her middle where a roundness was evident. “Perhaps you are just feeding me well.”

“Eat as much as you like. More for me to love,” he said as he nuzzled his head into her neck and her heart sped at this declaration of affection and stuttered over the hope of new life. Now that it was spoken, she wanted it. But it was too dangerous to hope.

***

Elias was slightly drunk and reeked of cigar smoke when she placed Sasha in his arms for the first time, sleeping and wrapped tightly in swaddling. Thea hoped to be sleeping soon too, every part of her felt heavy and tired though her joy at seeing their daughter in his arms was so wonderful, she closed her eyes, trying to commit it to memory so she could paint it later. The lines of surprise on his face, the reverence with which he held her. “Oh she’s beautiful,” he said. “Well done, Thea.”

***

Hubert was surprised, and Thea too, when a very tiny baby boy followed a very tiny baby girl after a mercifully quick labor. Thea might have worried about their size but for the loud cries both made. The midwife washed and wrapped them both quickly, placing one in her arms and one in Hubert’s. Thea wasn’t even sure if she had the boy or the girl and the midwife was busy wiping her with a clean washcloth and only spoke Flemish so she didn’t ask.

Hubert kissed Thea’s sweaty brow, such joy in his face that Thea could feel it reflected back onto her. “I knew you were a remarkable woman. Two at once!”

***

“I love you,” Hubert said, and it was like he thought it a burden to her or an inconvenience, like he was worried she would feel obligated to love him too. He called her “dearest” but she only called him “dear,” and she knew he noticed the lack of the superlative when he dropped that endearment entirely. He chose a new one each time he addressed her, mostly in the German native to his mother. Liebling and Perle and Engel. Sometimes in French: Mon coeur, mon tresor, and even mon chou to make her laugh. 

She called him Hubert and that was enough for him, for now. At least she hoped. Too much of her was still faded and lost in grief. But waking up beside him every day in a new kingdom in a new city without the glare of the fjord and the creaking of boats, she thought she might not be faded much longer. 

The twins stirred in their bassinet and Hubert picked them up, cradling one in each arm. He turned to her and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Elias had shaved every day at home, lathering up with a soap with a distinct scent that Thea had come to associate with him. She missed the smell of it. He came home from expeditions with a beard that was coarse and full. Its roughness against her face when they kissed hello was part of the homecoming ritual, as was watching him trim and then shave it off, the time spent apart measured in how long it was. She would cup his smooth cheek with her hand and say “There you are!” when he finished and then together they began their favorite part of his homecoming. 

Hubert kept his beard short. This was becoming a greater challenge now that the white hairs in it were growing faster than the brown. He would turn to Thea from his dressing table with the mirror propped up and the scissors in his hand, exasperated and possibly wistful and say “Why are the old-man hairs the ones most intent on announcing their presence?” 

She found the best way to assuage this particular fear was to kiss him on the lips while her hands scratched at his bearded cheeks. “I like it. It makes you look distinguished. Very reliable for knowing the best way to introduce ice cars to the national railway.” Often the scissors would be abandoned as his hand found places to caress that elicited less verbal sounds of satisfaction from her.

***

Elias had presented her with gifts throughout their courtship and marriage through the imports his family was so involved in. He paid attention to the latest fashions that his mother and Linnea followed closely and seemed to always be giving her a new bonnet or pair of gloves or piece of jewelry or box of books. He bought her paints and pigments for her artwork and she exclaimed over the expense, grateful he knew how important it was to her. She hadn’t packed any of those gifts in the trunks that came to Antwerp, though she had tucked her wedding ring into a pair of woolen socks, unwilling to part from it completely and yet wanting to try living without its constant presence on her hand.

Hubert was similarly generous with gifts. For their first Christmas together, he had given all of the children their own horses and when Thea gently pointed out that perhaps the twins and Elias were too young for a horse, he bought them ponies as well. Vadik had also received a pocket watch that Hubert had been gifted from his own father at the age of ten and a letter Elias had written to Hubert announcing Vadik’s birth. Sasha had gasped when he presented her with a Stradivarius violin. They hadn’t seen her for the rest of the day, the pastoral symphony from Handel’s Messiah filling the house the only evidence of her presence and a testament to her delight.

To Thea, he had given his mother’s diamond ring, resized to fit her hand. He had shrugged at the extravagance, saying only “Antwerp is known for diamonds and I never gave you a ring when we were wed.” But she had seen how pleased he was when she wore it, how his eyes looked at her hand and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Later, Sara had hugged her tightly and whispered how glad she was to see her brother in love.

That night when the last carol had been sung and the last candle extinguished, Hubert lit one in the bedroom to tell her of another gift.

“I saved the letters Elias wrote to me over the years. Yours too, but it’s his I think you might like to see. We started corresponding the year we were all at the Royal Sommerhus together,” he said as he crossed the room to the tall chest of drawers. He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers tied neatly with a piece of string. 

“I should have told you about them before, but I wasn’t sure if they would cause joy or bereavement. But I think either way, the decision is for you to make.” He was looking at the letter on top, and even with only candlelight Thea could see that it bore the creases of having been once folded as a letter. Hubert didn’t raise his eyes to hers as he continued speaking.

“He loved you so much Thea. And he said that so often in these letters. Sometime casually, sometimes in grand declarations. And they’re yours to read whenever you want to; alone or with me nearby.”

The diamond had spun on her finger and she twisted it back around as she answered him, careful to keep her voice even so he wouldn’t hear grief in her voice and regret this gift. “Thank you, Hubert. I’ll read them another night.”

He returned the letters to the drawer and then got back in their bed.

“Thank you for all of the gifts. The children and I - we’re so lucky to have you.” She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her voice, how much she meant it to be true. Thinking about Elias was still a wound but it was more of a bruise now, not the gaping wound it had been before coming to Antwerp. And one she preferred, at least for now, to prod and examine by herself.

“I love giving you good things,” he said and she knew he was trying to say something else.

***

The night before Vadik was born, Thea had been so uncomfortably pregnant that she sent Elias to Hudson’s without her. “Bring me back krumkake if there is any. Or skolebrod. Or both,” she’d said as he kissed her goodbye. He’d returned with both.

When she was so heavily pregnant that only one dress fit and none of her shoes, she felt her stomach had no room for any food. Hubert begged her to take one more sip of soup, one more bite of bread, and when her contractions began said he would go for the midwife himself and fetch Sasha from school until Thea told him she would rather he remain close by and to perhaps send a servant instead. 

“Try not to get drunk like Elias did when I labored with Sasha. All will be well. There’s nothing to fear,” she had said as he left the room.

Thea had cried out once when the midwife said “There’s another!” Hubert rushed in and saw the birth of the second while clutching Thea’s hand, his mother’s diamond leaving a mark in his palm.

***

Elias had taken the children sailing and riding and swimming and hiking, sometimes with Thea and sometimes not. He rolled to the very edge of the bed when Sasha and then later Vadik came into their room at the sound of thunder and needed to sleep pressed against their mother. He put a steady hand behind Thea as she carried their babies, pushed the pram or nursed.

Maybe because there were two at once, or because he was older when he became a father, or just because he was a different man, Hubert held the babies at every opportunity. They bought a second pram shortly after they realized the need for it, but the twins, Helen and Castor, were still small enough that they fit in one, tightly swaddled and fit neatly together as the family walked through De Zoologie and exclaimed over the animals. Hubert pushed the pram and Thea would have thought that was the way of it in Antwerp except every other pram they passed was pushed by a nursemaid in uniform. Hubert smiled and waved to those passing and Thea thought his pride in his family, in their family, was visible to even strangers.

***

“Three babies in two years; I know it’s been rare for you to have time to yourself,” Hubert said, with his hand on the doorknob. Thea appreciated that he didn’t list the tragedies of those years, only the happy surprises: little Elias and Helen and Castor. Little Elias was so big now that no one ever called him “the baby,” especially since the twins were currently taking up quite a bit of energy and attention, even spread as it was among Hubert, Thea, Sara, the nursemaids, and their older siblings.

It was their first anniversary, after all, and Thea was determined to have a happy day. She had planned a menu with the cooks that would rival a royal wedding celebration. Hubert’s friends and colleagues, who would probably have come to their wedding had it happened with any notice, were attending an anniversary dinner. Even Henrik was coming. He was in the country to discuss the use of ice in train transport with Hubert and had promised to bring a few surprises of his own. Thea had raised her eyebrows at this, but Hubert had been uncharacteristically unconcerned.

They were outside of a room Thea thought might be one of the sunrooms. The Bonfrey family estate was large and she was still learning where everything was located a year into making it home. The children seemed to learn it perfectly after one tour from Sara on the very first night. But Thea would sometimes open several doors before ending up where she meant to, and wasn’t helped by the way the children were constantly leaving their books and playthings scattered in different places, a trail of unhelpful breadcrumbs like those from one of Hubert’s book of German fairy tales.

“Sara and Sasha helped me set this up the way they guessed you’d like,” said Hubert, and Thea was surprised to see a red flush on his cheeks, a nervous flexing in his hands. They’d seen each other through so much this year - the grief of a funeral for beloved friends, a hellish trip across the sea, the birth of the twins - but she hadn’t seen him act like this before. 

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first and she did. 

“Oh Hubert!” 

The room Hubert had led her into had been a sunroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light that displayed the contents of the room to full effect: paints and pigments, canvases stacked high, chalks and charcoals, several easels, hog bristle brushes, even a pantograph for reducing or enlarging sketches. On the wall were shelves that were mostly empty save for a handful of books. 

“They’re photo studies. Of statues, paintings. Some landscapes and some models,” Hubert said as she stepped forward and traced the embossed titles along the book spines.

Thea moved about the room, her hands running along shelves and then on to the paintbrushes, experimentally brushing them against her palm. 

“I thought you could use a place to be by yourself, to think and to paint or even to just sit and read. I can move the letters from Elias in here if you’d like.”

Thea turned to him and nodded. “I would like that. I like all of this, Hubert. So much.”

“Sasha said you’d like those the best,” he said as she examined the canvas. “ And Sara suggested we paint the room white and take out most of the furniture so you can choose how to decorate it. We left a chair and a stool for you, and the couch for whoever wants to pose.”

Vadik suddenly ran in the room with little Elias close behind and Hubert scooped him up before he collided with the glass jars standing at the ready for mixing.

“And the best part,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a key, “is that you can lock it to keep out any unwelcome visitors.”

“Like who?” Vadik asked. “Uncle Henrik? But he just got here and Aunt Sara told me to fetch you to greet him!”

Thea laughed and ruffled his hair. “No, sweet, Uncle Henrik is most welcome. Come with me so he can exclaim over how tall you’ve grown.” 

***

The anniversary dinner party went so late into the evening that it was the early morning hours before any guests left for home. Though Hubert gripped the table when Henrik gave a toast, it was entirely appropriate and never once mentioned Paris, for which Thea knew Hubert was extremely grateful.

When Hubert was walking the last of the guests to the door, Henrik revealed his surprise - paintings and sketches Thea had made and left in Arendelle. She went through the neatly preserved stack and was delighted to see among them Sasha, age ten and playing her violin, Vadik as a baby sleeping in his crib, Elias in the pond by the Royal Sommerhus, teaching Sasha to swim. She had left them in Arendelle hoping to leave some evidence of her family behind in case they all sunk to the bottom of the sea. Looking at them now, she was surprised to feel only joy.

“Linnea brought them back on her last visit and asked me to deliver them to you personally,” Henrik said. 

He didn’t ask why she hadn’t brought them when she and the children moved here and she was grateful. He reached for the portrait of Elias that she was now tracing with her hand - one of him in an Arendelle navy uniform, trying to look serious but his smile rendered fully in the watercolor. “Thea, you know he loved you. And you know he would have wanted you to find love again. To be cared for and to care for others. To not be closed off and grieving for the rest of your days.” He placed the painting back in the pile and squeezed her hand. “He liked Hubert. He would have liked this for you, even though he would never have liked to leave you so permanently.”

***

Hubert helped Thea arrange the paintings Henrik had brought from Linnea. With each painting she felt a fragmented piece of herself realign and became part of the whole, like a dried out watercolor palette being worked over with water and blending brushes. Hubert had his hand on the doorknob to leave, but she didn’t want him to go.

“Henrik asked again if I wanted him to pose for me. Nude of course.”

Hubert laughed. “Again? Is this something he does often?”

“A handful of times. I think usually it was just to bother Elias,” she said as she fiddled with the nearby paintbrushes and straightened the stack of canvases that were already in a very neat pile. She picked up the lay figure and worked its arms and legs. “Thankfully you’ve given me this so I can decline.”

“If you ever need a live model, I’d be happy to do it. To spare you the sight of Henrik.” He said and took his hand off of the doorknob. “It’s why the couch is here after all.” 

He sat down on it and then she did too. 

“Did I tell you about the time Elias offered himself for the same purpose?”

“No,” Hubert laughed. 

“I was very flustered - we weren’t yet engaged. I told him of my art classes and the sketches we would do, how both men and women had posed nude for us. I was trying to impress him with my worldliness. And he said ‘I’d be very pleased to pose for you anytime you’d like.’” Thea glanced at Hubert who was smiling at her story, and smiled in response and in memory of her attempt to show off.

“I told him there was no need as I’d already seen more men naked than I could count, and then he said ‘Just wait until you see what I do with it.’” Thea reddened and put her hand over her mouth, laughing. “I’m sorry; you don’t want to hear that!”

But Hubert was laughing too and reached for her hands to squeeze them in reassurance. “You can tell me anything about him. We can both remember him.”

“Thank you,” Thea said, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling like another piece of herself was connected and whole again.

***

She loved him. She wasn’t sure when it started. Probably long before she said it, probably when her heart didn’t know what to call it anymore. He had been patient and allowed her to find her way to it, not demanding it of her even when he said it freely and showed her in a hundred different ways. 

“Ice liebe dich,” she said, and kissed him on one cheek and then the other. “Je t’aime.” 

The space between their lips was so small that she could feel his words as he spoke them, warm as they fell across her lips. 

“I love you too. So much,” Hubert said as he gently rested his forehead against hers and put his hands on her shoulders. He rested them lightly and she could feel them tremble.

“Ik hou van je,” she said. She had saved that one for last. 

Hubert spoke German when he was in a nostalgic mood and French for everyday. Flemish was his language for murmuring in her ear while in bed at night, his body surrounding hers and bringing them both pleasure. He spoke words of affection in Flemish after moments of ecstasy that she guessed he didn’t know if she was ready to hear. But now, she was. And she was ready to say them too.

“Is that right?” asked Hubert, and pulled back from her so she could see his face. His was smiling and his eyes were full of such hope and tenderness she knew he meant it was all he wanted. “You love me in three languages?”

“I love you in every language. And I’ll learn them all, too, to tell you. You loved me back to life and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say thank you enough.”

Hubert’s smile faltered a little and his brow furrowed. They were small tells, but she could see them. Someone who loved him could see that he was bothered. 

“Saying ‘I love you’ is better than ‘thank you.’ As long as it’s not an obligation. As long as you don't think you have to say it to stay here and be my beloved,” he said, speaking gently and patiently, like always. 

She answered and kept her eyes on his. She wanted him to feel the truth in what she said. “No, I feel free. You’ve made me free to love again. And I love you.”

He smiled and she saw the relief he felt at her words, the joy. He moved his hands to her waist and her cheek and pulled her towards him in language their bodies were familiar with. “Well then. Let’s love.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spaztic Fantastic gave a suggestion for something else that this family could go through and then as usual polished it up and made it better. Thank you!

It wasn't for lack of trying. Hubert took Little Elias on rail journeys all over Belgium, even further into Lille and Rotterdam and Cologne, over rivers and across miles of countryside. At the age of seven, Elias rode in the caboose with the crew, sticking his head out of the cupola to report that all the freight cars were running smoothly and to point at the wild boar running away from the shaking ground put in motion by the train rumbling past. By ten, he was helping the fireman load coal into the firebox and by thirteen he helped the laborers unload jugs of milk and cheese from the cool embrace of ice cars.

But it was the water that called him.

Hubert told him stories of the sea while he was still in the nursery, stories of his namesake father and his grandfather before him. Tucked under his blankets in their home in Antwerp, so close to a port that if he opened his window he could hear the creak of ships and the calls of sailors, he would imagine exploring the Caribbean and the Americas, finding new trade routes and places once thought to be mythical. 

He was three the first time he said it, all of them engaged in various amusements in the sitting room. He ran a wooden block across the rug delivered years before by boat from someplace in Persia and said "Sail!" 

Sasha looked up from her sheet music and paused, starting a sea shanty from memory on her violin. "I'll teach you what the sailors sing! The ones Father sang!"

Thea's smile was tight and Hubert could see her hand frozen in place, no longer running lightly along the arm of baby Helen, asleep at her breast. He shifted the weight of Castor against his shoulder and spoke to Sasha and Elias as one.

"Have a care for your mother and the babies. They need their sleep. Perhaps a softer tune.”

Elias darted away from them one day on a stroll and Hubert knew where to find him. He sent Thea and the babies home over her protests and promised he would return quickly with a penitent Elias who would be whole and in one piece. And indeed, Hubert found him exactly where he had suspected - by the docks, waving to the ships coming into port.

"Have a care for your mother, little man. Running off like that on her is too hard a thing to bear.”

At thirteen and fourteen and fifteen, Elias floated the idea of working on a ship during the break from school, but Thea shook her head and mentioned tutors or the family trip to Denmark or the unpredictable weather of summer. She watched his reaction in his shoulders, getting broader and more disappointed in their posture each year. It was too hard to look in his eyes, so exactly like his father’s.

At sixteen, Elias spoke to Hubert alone and Thea listened from the hallway, watching as Hubert's arm looped around Elias’ shoulders. 

"Have a care for your mother. You know how your father died. It’s too hard for her to say goodbye to you with your feet on the deck of a ship.”

"I know."

But the sigh in his voice was so profound Thea could hear not just his frustration but his hopelessness. His despair rivaled her own and she knew it was time for her to have a care for him. It was time to move past the fears that stifled her for so long that they were now stifling her son. Elias’s son.

Elias had kept much from her, in the service of his king. When news of the Great Thaw traveled across the North Sea, and then later the news that the Snow Queen could control all of the elements and not just snow, Thea found she didn't have any anger or fear left. Or sadness really. She had compassion for the king and queen, orphaned so young that Elias was more like a brother than a friend. If they kept secrets, she could only look to their deaths as the punishment and had no more to extract from their memories. 

That night Hubert tucked himself around her and she felt like Miranda in the Tempest painting by John Waterhouse, the one she had a photo of in her art room. Safe among the rocky shore while looking out to a stormy sea.

She stroked his arm and whispered. “I won't stop his passion for my pain. I tried with Sasha and she might have run away with her violin if you hadn't taken us all here.”

Hubert pulled her tighter against himself. “He’s still young. He might change his mind.”

Thea shook her head. She knew. “They say she's the snow queen now, that she controls the elements. I could write to her, petition for safety. Perhaps they owe us that. Perhaps she would want to give us that.”

Hubert leaned up on his elbow and then brushed his lips against hers and she heard pride in his voice. “You are so brave, my darling.”


End file.
